Grandpa's Little Whore

Seventy-eight-year-old, white-haired, tall, handsome, and blessed with a physique better than Paul Newman, Sherman Woodward thought to have just one serious problem and that was suffering from impotence, which was man’s worst nightmare. To have impotence meant the end of your very manhood, your very inner being, and most of all, your sex life. That’s the worst part about living as an old man and it was a damn good thing for heart attacks.

Then a miracle happened.

Chelsea, his youngest granddaughter, whom he hadn’t seen for almost six years, called him up one morning and asked if she could come and visit him at his farmhouse for a couple of days.

He didn’t mind. With his wife passed away, it can be quite boring out here living in a giant mansion in the middle of Delaware’s cattle field. Lonely, too.

Her mother, Mary, who was his daughter, took the phone and made sure if it was okay if Chelsea can sleep over just for two weeks.

He reassured Mary that he sure can use her company here. His interest, at the moment, in seeing Chelsea was pure grandfatherly innocence. She was just twelve when he last saw her and he couldn’t forget how adorably cute she was. He hadn’t seen her since then so therefore he had no idea just how astonishingly hot his little company was going to be.

His granddaughter arrived the next morning and he saw her hauling out a couple of suitcases from a taxicab. You wouldn’t believe your eyes if you’d saw her. It was a sunny day with a cool breeze coming from the north. He stood out on the porch and waved his hand, still unable to make her out in the haze. She was still at a far distance. When the cab drove away and Woodward stepped down to help her with the suitcases, he stopped in disbeliefs to realize what an amazingly fine-looking girl coming his way.

He had no idea Chelsea would grow from a shy, scrawny but cute kid to a gorgeous, voluptuous, spirited teenager at the fine legal-to-screw age of eighteen, her terrific rack bouncing freely as she hurried toward him. Bright hazel eyes and a fine heartbreaking smile, she had grown at the right height; tall but not taller than him. Her fire red hair was pulled in a salient ponytail and she was wearing a (oh, goodness!) cut-to-the-crotch jean short and a tight-wrapped tank top. She also had a face of a yearning princess: big amorous eyes, cute lips, and a delicate nose to nibble on

She rushed over, dropped her two suitcases, and tackled him with a joyous embrace. “Hey! Long time no see, Grandpa!”

“Whoa, isn’t that the truth!” Woodward chuckled and felt her squeezed harder, feeling her breasts pressing against his chest, smelled her sweats, and then, out of nowhere, felt a sudden rip-roaring stiffness growing in his pants.

Oh, Lord, Woodward thought, could that be what I think it is?

It was his first Viagra-free hard-on and it was starting to break through his jean. He chuckled, kissed her gingerly on the cheek, feeling her naive kisses running across his lips, and helped with the suitcases, secretly cheerful at the fact he was a man again and implausibly ashamed that it was his own granddaughter that resurrected his manhood.

Later that night Woodward jacked off in his bedroom like there was no tomorrow and slept like a teenager in love. Beneath his blank was a soaking pool of drying semen. He had been fantasizing how Chelsea would look without her clothes on and how she would sound when being screwed to the mash.

Two weeks with Chelsea prancing around here in her tight short was going to be a mind-bridling torture for Woodward. Two weeks worth of unstoppable erection and that uncontrollable to jerk off. One time, during a breakfast meal, she was chatting to him about her school life as a cheerleader (which explained her incredible physique) while unconsciously gnawing on a fat sausage, giving him nasty thoughts. She swallowed the entire meat like some young porn star doing a magic oral trick and smiled unknowingly at him, strings of hair falling over her face. Woodward had to excuse himself.

“Sorry, Chelsea dear, but I have to go to a bathroom. Bad prostate.”

Her smile broadened. “Sure, Grandpa.”

And at that Woodward was excused to whack on his pipe and let out a fulfilling release. He had never felt so horny in his life; it was becoming something of an addiction. It was the good thing she spent most of her days outside playing with the farm animals while Woodward stayed inside, watching her from the window, whacking on his steel-hard Johnson, seeing she was wearing her brown leather cowboy hat and her T-shirt was pulled up, baring her midriff, and tied just at about her sternum. And just as Chelsea bend over to pet a lamb, seeing her ass stretching through her short in such a revealing exposure, Woodward shot a load of his grand finale.

Then one fine afternoon something beyond incredible happened. This was the day that was going to be the most explicit, mind-boggling day Woodward will ever experience and it might also to be his last. He had never expected this to happen or even daydream that this would become a reality but it did . . .

His granddaughter was last seen slipping in the secluded barn. He found it all because there was nothing in the barn except for some haystack, a broken manure spreader, and a forage blower. The rest of the barn was a deserted in-house filled with mounds of haystack. Yet it made him wonder why would she even bother sneaking in there and it also worried him because she already been in there for over a half an hour. Long enough to make him come out of his farmhouse and investigate.

The door entrance to the barn was closed shut, which was unusual, but Woodward minded this, grasped on the handle, and rolled the door open.

He caught Chelsea laying in a fetal position on the soiled ground with her panties stripped to her ankles and her shirt thrown to the ground, showing her exposed bras as she furiously finger-fucked herself. She still had on her western-style straw hat, looking like a whorish cowgirl slut having a little fun. Her eyes were closed, stifling moans escaping her trembling mouth; she was so beautiful in that position. It was a spectacular, shocking sight. She was using both of her hands to masturbate, as if desperate to fuck herself, and despite the opening of the barn door; she had no idea of his presence here.

She looked like a cowgirl slut in a need of a good fuck. Just watching her like this gave him the urge to get on her and get her fucked hard. She was drenched in a stratum of sweat and, oh God, her string of pristine moans filled the barn. Woodward felt a hard-on cultivating to life, hardening and stiffening with heat until his entire manhood pushed his pant into a tent.

Watching her laying there on the haystack, legs sprawled wide open, burgundy hair thrown about, seeing her cleavages heaving deeply and ardently, Woodward knew right there and then he was going to have her.

His own granddaughter.

He felt he had no choice or else he’ll have to die from unfulfilled fantasies. It was a to fuck or die situation. Unconsciously, he began undressing his shirt, taking it off as he ogled his little grandgirl finger-fucked her cunt. His other hand unzipped his pant, releasing his pole out in a rigid angle, and he could feel the rush of thrilling sexual memories when he last did this before. Except the thrill was greater, much greater and fantastic magnitude, because this was a bombshell red-headed youth and this was complete and utter incest on the rise.

“Grandpa?”

His pant fell between his ankles and there he stood, exposed naked with his fat ten-inch worth of vein-pulsing cock saluting her. He was beginning to feel butterflies in his stomach along with intense excitement, causing his heart to pound at a thudding rate.

Chelsea was obviously aware of what’s going on; he could see the lust and anticipation on that cute babyface of hers. He could see it in her eyes even and the fact that they were fixed on his cock.

“Grandpa, have you been watching me?” Chelsea inquired, arching an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Yes, I believe I have.”

“You’ve been watching me for quite a while, haven’t you?”

This was a question he didn’t expect to hear but he managed to let everything out of the closet. What difference would it make backing out? “Yeah, I’m afraid I have.”

“Yeah, I bet you have,” she replied with a smile. Then she sat back, spread her legs apart, and placed a finger on her slit, twirling with her fuckhole. “I knew you’ve been spying on me. Probably jerking off and thinking how I look when you put that thing in my pussy. I saw all those cum stains in the bathroom, on your carpet in your bedroom near the window, and even in the kitchen. Do you really cum that much?”

He took a breath, trying to regain control of his sanity. Just watching her laying there so vulnerable, so exposed to be fucked turned him on even more. He remained silent, deciding to surprise her with the fact that he could cum in gallons. He want to see the look on her face when he does.

“I asked you a question, Grandpa.”

“Why don’t you find out yourself?”

“Oh, aren’t you the naughty one,” she moaned with delight as she shoved a pair of fingers inside her cunt. “You know it’s illegal in this state for an old man like you to fuck a little girl like me?”

He couldn’t not stand there and do nothing; instead he grabbed his cock and began jacking it in long stroke. Her eyes alighted with yearning hunger, tongue licking across her lips. “Yeah,” he answered gruffly.

“You also know that you’ll go to jail for this? That it’s illegal and unholy for a grandfather to fornicate with his granddaughter? They’ll hang you in this state, won’t they? But I know you want me, Grandpa, and I think I know how bad, too. With all that cum stains I see in the house, with the hard-on you have for me, you want me, don’t you?”

Even though eighteen years old, she was the world’s hottest knockout laying on the haystack in that fuck-me-if-you-dare position. He could see her true physique with her tight clothes gone. Slim to the waist, sanctified with a corpulent pair of breasts, round tits coated with sweats, and long, muscular legs that was beautiful enough to die for. Her pretty little face was framed from filaments of red hair curling down to her neck.

“You been a bad girl,” Woodward said to her. “I never gave you permission to go in the barn.”

She made a wide-eyed face of innocence. “Oh, yeah?” Then she crawled around on all fours, cowboy hat still on her head, and flaunted her ass toward Grandpa, flexing all the muscles in those buns. Each of her movement teased his temptation to hump her like an ill-tempered bull. “Then what are you gonna do about it? Spank me?”

“No, I’m not.” It was the truth, too. He didn’t want to spank her; he wanted more than that.

She gave him a sidelong glance, still boasting that ass at him. He could even see the pussylips and its immaculate opening. It looked as petite as a quarter. “No?” she asked uncertainly.

“I’m going to fuck you long and hard.” And at this remark, he didn’t show her much of a mercy when he landed down on her, grunting as he positioned his weight behind her doggy-styled. She uttered a soft cry as his sudden approach. His huge cock raged between her wet pelvis, rubbing against her pubic hair in a thrilling, tickling massage, electrifying his old hormones at a screaming merry-go-round. Ever heard of that expression -what goes around comes around?

“Grandpa, wait.”

But Woodward couldn’t wait – after all these years of abstinence – he just couldn’t fucking wait one second longer to fuck his little grandwhore. What a fucking slut she is. Probably a type of cheerleader go on a drunken orgy and gangbang her entire football squad. Maybe even give her teachers a hard fuck to get better grades. Now she was crossing the line when she just up and decided to call Grandpa to innocently stay over for a few weeks so she can flirt with him until he went out of his mind. And she was going to get it good from him.

Not heeding her protest, he pushed forward and shoved his cock through her love tunnel, hearing her break out into a loud moan, and stopped mid-stride when his head felt the wall of her hymen. She was trying to hold still from the intense penetration of his. Woodward rapidly pulled his manhood out of her warmth, seeing that his entire cock was seeping in radiant female moisture. “Holy Mother of God, you ARE a virgin.”

Chelsea swirled around, breathing hard, and looked at him in the eyes. She seemed to be alarm at his remark. “Why? You don’t want me?”

“Are you kidding, babydoll, of course I do. It’s just that you’re so beautiful and for you to be unchaste is . . . like a miracle. Haven’t any of the boys back in school ever tried getting down on you? Don’t you have any experience?”

“Well, yeah. I gave some of the boys a little blowjob but they never lasted longer than that to take me. Anyway, the truth was that I was sort of saving myself for someone special. Someone who will do anything to earn me.” She studied him with lewd, coveted eyes. “Listen, I’ll give you a chance to earn it.”

“Earn it?”

“My virginity, Einstein.”

Sighing out his frustration, he felt an arousing hard-on at this idea. She seemed to have felt this from below. “How do I earn it then?”

Chelsea bedazzled him with a smile that could make a man go head over heel. Her cowboy hat tilted a little and sweats glazed her skin into a sort of explicit radiance. Her tits was erected and standing out in a suck-me peak that made him want to suck on it like a milk bottle.

“We’re going to play a game, Grandpa. I call this particular game ‘69.’ You know what a 69 is?”

He was familiar with the term but he wasn’t with her little game. Yet this excited him even more. “How do you play?”

“I think how do you win is what’s on your mind, isn’t it? You wanna fuck the cherry out of me and turn me into your little whore. We’re playing ‘69’ as a sort of oral competition.” She sat up, leaned forward at an intimate range, and pushed him on his back, soothing him down on the haystack as if she was some sort of teenage wet nurse. “You lay down like this.” Then she climbed on him, all marvelously stark naked except for her western cowgirl hat, and straddled down on his stomach. He felt the edge of his pole bounced off her butt cheek and exhilarating rage to have her. She smiled down on him and giggled. “Here’s what going to happen in the game of 69: I’m going to turn around and sit my pussy on your face while I place your nice big cock in my mouth. I’m gonna suck you nice and hard but in order to win, you have to be strong and suck me. Your job is to make me cum before I drain the life force out of you. And if you so happen to win, you can fuck me retarded.”

Just the thought of fucking her retarded enraged his cock to an extreme arching angle.

The game of 69 was on just as she turned around and parked her ass down on his face, pressing her genitals against his nose, enabling him to smell the very sweet aroma of her love juice; that smell of teenage spirit. Grandpa Woodward licked a little taste of her cunt and shuddered at the indescribable flavor of granddaughter juice; a taste that was so syrupy and sweet it was sour. She let out a soft moan, gasping as each lick he started to make. As soon as he got a taste of her, he started lapping her clitoris like a dog.

Her moaning stopped as soon as her mouth engulfed on his fledge-raising cock, swallowing him in a wet, tight congestion. He gulped, feeling that oh-shit shock-fulfilling sensation as the likely possibility that she might have the advantage of winning. He really wanted to crack that hymen of her and see the look in her eyes as she becomes a real whore.

“Oh, Goddamnit!” Woodward blurted out, as she inhaled his entire branch inside her throat. Another one of her sexual-craved moans filled the barn and that, savoring cock-overwhelming sensation chilled his balls.

“You like that, Grandpa?” she muttered.

“Fuck, yeah.”

She went attacking at his cock again, unforgivable at his weakness, and he groaned out in utter pleasure. This was a blowjob he never thought possible to happen. For a moment there Woodward almost forgot about the game and regained some ounce of stamina. He mouthed her rose-shaped clit and nibbled on it, causing her ass to jerk and stir. She also responded by grinding down harder, moaning throughout the process as she twirled her tongue on his shaft. She was starting to breathe heavier, breaking into short breaths.

“Oh, yeah, lick me,” she purred, exhausting hot breaths on his cock. It was like a blow dryer whispering on his manhood with moist and heat. “Yeah! Ugh, yeah, fucking give it to me. You got it. Ooooh, Jesus Christ, I’m gonna get you for that, old man.” And she did get him; by drowning his manhood in a wet, tongue-swimming maze.

He received quite a reaction just as he buried his tongue against her pelvis, teasing her in short, quick strokes. Just as he thought he was going to blow his load (this is was his grandgirl cock-sucking him here!) one more tongue stroke tickled the right spot of her clitoris and it was game over. Her ass bucked downhill and one of her involuntarily legs kicked at the ground. Dirt and haystack fluttered in the air as she squealed in desire. A new raw odor filled his nostrils; a smell of a girl becoming a woman. Her little game of 69 was over just when torrent of her own fluids began formulating out of her pussyhole, squirting in a river and sapping into his mouth.

That was all he wanted to hear. His cock strained against her gasping mouth as more wave of glittering teenage ejaculation open fire on his face. Suddenly she was back executing on his cock, slobbering over him in a weak but effective blowjob. He groaned out in a screaming timbre, felt a heavenly sensation shooting across his inner spine, and pulled his shaft out of her mouth. He had to stop or else he’ll be exploding everywhere.

She was thrown over on her back, landing against the haystack, and opened her eyes at him. Both legs of her were splayed apart, exposing her almost hairless cunt, and defenseless toward her grandfather’s cock.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Lurching over to her womanhood, Woodward could smell her heat and seeing just how swollen and dripping wet his cock was; he paused and found this the perfect moment to cherish this event.

“Mm, that was a good one,” she mumbled, still in a daze. She arranged her cowgirl hat in order and smiled at him, her bright eyes locking on his well-erected rod. “You ready to make me into a woman?”

“I’ve been ready,” Woodward said, and at this, he leaned down on her and positioned himself between her legs. The helmet grazed against her wet flower and waited there. “The question is are you ready?”

She took a breath and gave him a nervous smile. “I don’t fucking care. Just give it to me.”

Bowing over her, Woodward grabbed his shaft and guided it into her slit, slow and agonizingly wonderful. Her eyes widened and her entire body seemed to tense as her vagina became stuffed for the first time. It was a long process to get most of the inches inside that fuckhole but then there was a pause just the hymen greeted his head again. Her breathing became labored and rougher, her hazel eyes staring at his face in a sincere, love-craved gaze.

He made one hard push, deflowered her hymen, and Chelsea was no longer chaste. A hard-boiled groan broke out from her, grunting from a pain only a woman can relate to, and arched back, her hands cupping her breasts together in a squeeze.